


10% civil 90% war: the assorted scenes

by justjoy



Series: 10% civil 90% war (or, the marvel au) [6]
Category: Magic Kaito, Marvel Cinematic Universe, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crack, Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/justjoy
Summary: How many superheroes does it take to change a lightbulb?(Or, various marvel au scribbles too short to stand on their own.)





	1. oi, oi

**Author's Note:**

> exactly as it says on the tin

“Kaito’s not joinin’ us today,” Kazuha declares, striding into the makeshift command centre. “Not unless it’s literally the apocalypse, end quote.”

Heiji looks up from where he’s poring over a map with Kudo, trying to figure out the best place to attack from. “Why not? Thought we agreed all hands on deck for this one?”

“Fish aliens,” she doesn’t-explain-at-all with a wince, to a mass of  _huh_ s around the room, three in understanding and the rest in confusion.

Miyano shrugs – insofar as the robot suit can shrug – when they all look at her. “What? I make a habit of reading all of our SHIELD files.”

“Critical mission intel,” adds Kudo’s neechan, and catches the collapsible set of bow and arrows that Kazuha tosses to her with her metal arm (and without looking).

 _Dear me, classified information,_  finishes Koizumi not quite aloud, along with the general mental image of a hair toss.

(“Who needs aliens when you have friends like these,” Heiji grumbles under his breath.

Kudo pokes him in the side with supersoldier strength.)

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little drabble to the fact that i’m still here, and because i haven’t written ran!pov for this verse yet ( _and_ because ao3 was highkey malfunctioning back when i posted this on tumblr)

It hurt, sometimes, every now and then and more and less, to remember the number of things that she'd never get back, now:

A mind and memories that she could trust.

Her mother, whose fight to become one of Japan's first female lawyers was one that Ran would only know through books, court records, and long-retired attorneys whose contacts had mysteriously appeared in her phone, even if they were more than happy to share their memories of facing Kisaki-bengoshi's wrath from across a courtroom.

Seventy years – _seventy years_ – of her life.

Hands that could ever be clean again.

The war that she signed up to fight, the side that she'd chosen to fight for.

(Most people, Ran thinks, would be surprised to learn that her left arm didn't make the list. But this arm, gleaming metal plates and red star and all, this is _hers_ now, as much as anything ever was.

Maybe it helps, the fact that falling from the train isn't a thing she remembers too clearly, for whatever reason – shock, blood loss, her brain cutting her a break for once when it got fried right after. Even listening to Shinichi's shakily delivered account of that day feels just that much foreign, matching details that she remembers in flashes of static and not much else.

It's better this way, she thinks, so her arm never makes the list, only the terrible things she'd done with it.

Those are hers too, but perhaps redemption for them will also be, someday.)

 

 


End file.
